


Dinner with Marcus

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [125]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF, The Boys (TV 2019) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 14:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.





	Dinner with Marcus

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

_warnings: con non-con roleplay towards the very end_

They had the place cleaned top to bottom yesterday - courtesy of Citadel and its super discreet staff - and so far today Stephen's spent most of the morning in the kitchen preparing two desserts for dinner tonight with Marcus, once he's done, he'll hand over to his husband to create the main course. He's sung along to the radio, shooed Antony out more than once and generally had a good time doing something domestic and 'normal'.

"Are you done yet?" Antony teases, poking his head back into the kitchen. He's kept busy, finishing off some paperwork that needed doing and giving his parents a call, but - as silly as it is - he misses his husband and he at least wants a kiss or a grope.

"You can come on in now, I'm just clearing up," Stephen throws a grin at his husband and tosses a kitchen towel over his shoulder as he moves things to the sink.

Antony steps in and presses himself up against Stephen's back, dropping a kiss on the nape of his neck, arms wrapping around his waist. "You smell good," he murmurs, brushing his mouth along Stephen's collar.

"I probably smell of sugar," Stephen grins, tipping his head to one side and smiling.

"That might be some of it," Antony admits, biting lightly at Stephen's throat. Unable to resist his husband.

Stephen's eyes slip shut and he hums out a noise of contented pleasure. Antony's teeth always light him up, wherever they are applied.

"I'm supposed to be making gnocchi," Antony murmurs, but that doesn't stop him from nipping at Stephen's throat, his hardening cock pressed against his husband's ass.

"I'm not stopping you," Stephen mumbles, he's well aware of his husband's erection tucked up against him, indeed his own cock has thickened in sympathy. "You're the boss, remember?"

Antony growls, rutting a little harder against Stephen's cleft, knowing there's no way he'll be able to concentrate on cooking. Not like this. "I know," he grins, biting a little more sharply, this time leaving a mark. "But you're too tempting," he teases, reaching around to open Stephen's jeans.

"Sir is blaming boy because Sir is always horny?" Stephen's smile is evident in his voice even as he shuffles back into Antony, letting his husband have more room to unzip him and work the denim down his hips. "That's hardly fair Sir."

"Who said anything about being fair?" Antony grins, spreading Stephen's cheeks with a groan, his own erection pressed so tightly against his zipper it hurts.

"True, you are a sadist after all." Stephen's head drops forward and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep quiet.

"Sometimes I'm nice though," Antony murmurs, grin widening as he slowly drops to his knees on the tile floor. "Like now." Hands spreading Stephen open even wider as he leans in and licks a stripe up his cleft, tongue gliding over his hole.

Whatever Stephen had been expecting, it most certainly wasn't _that_ , his eyes snap open and he scrabbles for purchase on the counter top. "Oh fuck..oh..oh my god..." he drags in a ragged breath and twists his head around to try and look down at his husband.

Antony licks over Stephen's hole a couple of times before pushing the tip of his tongue just inside. He drops one hand to open his own jeans, free his aching cock, before spreading Stephen's cheeks again so he can go deeper.

Hands pressed down hard on the counter, Stephen's face is contorted in a mask of pleasure. It's not often his pleasure is entirely pain free, so he relaxes into it, allowing his body to respond very enthusiastically.

Stabbing his tongue into Stephen's hole, Antony fucks him as hard and as deep as he can like this, his own arousal spiking higher and higher with every sound of pleasure his husband gifts him.

"Oh...TonySir...please...please can I?" Stephen's fighting now not to grind down against Antony's face, demanding so much more from that wicked tongue. "Please!"

Antony eases off, licking into Stephen's hole again. "You can come now, or with my cock inside you," he says, between slow, deliberate licks. "But either way you're getting fucked. Your choice, boy."

Stephen's hands curl into fists against the marble and he blows out a laboured breath. "With your cock Sir, please," he grits out, willing himself to hang on and not disgrace himself, or disappoint his Sir.

Antony rocks to his feet and reaches for the bottle of olive oil sitting on the counter. He's not going to risk Stephen being sore for dinner and spit might as well be no lube at all with someone his size. Cock slicked, he lines up and slowly pushes in, breath hot on the back of Stephen's neck.

"Oh fuu..." Stephen bites down on the curse, his ass tilting into Antony's hips as his Sir snugs up behind him. "Boy is so close Sir."

"Can you hold out?" Antony asks, starting to move into Stephen. "Or do you need permission?" He's never been one of those doms who likes to set his submissives up for failure. Not on purpose and not when it's not part of the actual scene itself.

Stephen takes a breath, concentrating hard on pushing back his orgasm, but the rising need is inevitable. "P...per..permission..." he stutters out, praying Antony says the word before the semen that's rushing up his cock spatters the cabinet doors.

Antony nods. "Come for me, boy," he breathes, sinking deep, the tight heat of Stephen's body making his head swim.

Stephen cries out the moment Antony says 'come' and he does, before his Sir has even finished speaking he's shuddering and spraying his release against the wood.

"Good boy," Antony praises but he doesn't stop, doesn't come yet, waits until Stephen's muscles ease up before he braces his hands against the counter and picks up his thrusts.

Bracing himself to let Antony take his pleasure, Stephen arches back to take very last inch of his Sir's dick, clenching down to milk him as he gets fucked. His own orgasm has left him breathless, heated and twitchy.

Antony groans as Stephen's body tightens around him again. He grits his teeth, thrusting harder, chasing after his orgasm, his pleasure right fucking there, until at last he comes with a shout, emptying himself into his boy.

Reaching around, Stephen makes to grab at Antony, settling for a handful of his top, fingers brushing warm skin. He holds himself steady waiting for his Sir to regain his breath and to recentre himself.

Antony presses close, wrapping his arms around Stephen, his mouth brushed over the links of his collar again. "Mm. That was fun," he murmurs, a small smile creasing his lips.

"Fun?" Stephen huffs out a noise. "You _always_ pull that when I'm standing up, I never get to enjoy you eating me out while I'm lying down, so I always have to concentrate on staying upright." There's a smile in his voice as he grumbles, pleased to have been a good boy again, thrilled that Antony thought he'd deserved the rimming in the first place.

"I'll remember that next time," Antony promises, eyes crinkling before he eases out and gives Stephen a kiss. He grins. "I'd better get started on the gnocchi."

"You mean after I've cleaned up?" Pulling his jeans back up, well aware he's a mess and will need a shower and a clean set of clothes, he steps back to view the cupboard that had been on the receiving end of his orgasm. He reaches for some kitchen towel, tearing off a couple of sheets.

"Is that how we clean up these days?" Antony teases, mostly.

Stephen blinks, the hand clutching the paper lowering as the admonishment hits home. "No Sir," he drops to his knees and leans in, knowing it'll taste cold and unpleasant, but to 'clean up' their ejaculate with his mouth is in his contract, and he can't think why he didn't do this without being reminded. _Maybe you're not as 'back in the game' as you thought. Don't slip up. Not again._

"Good boy," Antony praises, running a hand over the back of Stephen's head when he's done. "You can go and wash up if you want then come back and help me."

"Thank you," Stephen folds the paper up and puts it on the counter. "I might take some time, I want to shower and shave, then I was going to lay the table up."

"Sounds good," Antony says with a smile, giving Stephen a kiss before he heads off.

///

Feeling distinctly more presentable, Stephen returns from his shower and shave in a pair of dark jeans, one of his dressier pairs and a shirt, the sleeves rolled up, the throat open. "How's it going?" he asks as he collects cutlery and a table cloth from the cupboards. A quick scan of the kitchen tells him his lover has it all in hand, like all things, Antony is methodical and thorough in his execution of meal preparation, cleaning up after himself as he goes along.

"Good," Antony responds, cutting the cheese potato gnocchi into bite-sized pieces and indenting each one with a fork before laying them out on a baking sheet. "Can you grate the mizithra for me when you're done?"

"Sure." Stephen carefully lays out the table, setting glasses and silverware appropriately before stepping back for a moment to make sure it's perfect. He returns to his husband and the kitchen with a smile on his face. "Did you pick out some wine?" He hunts out the grater and the cheese, grating it carefully into a bowl.

Antony shakes his head. "Not yet. Do you want to?" His husband's got excellent taste in wine.

"Okay." He finishes up, washes his hands and then has a look see through the bottles they store in the kitchen, pulls out a white he slides into the fridge and a red he carries through to set on the table. "Does it not seem weird to have him over for dinner after all this time?" he calls out on his way back to see if there is anything else he can do.

Antony quickly chops some onion and tomato to add to the salad, leaning back as he gives the question some consideration. "It does," he finally admits. "But not as weird as it would have before. It seems... more natural to have him into _our_ home than what used to be my... I don't know, refuge isn't quite the right word, but we used to spend so much time together in such intense settings that I just needed a break, needed to reset. I didn't want to see anyone on my crew."

"I understand that. But he's not just your crew is he? He's much more than that." Stephen moves to make coffee, reaching out to brush his hand along Antony's butt as he passes, a thoughtless, casual caress.

Antony snorts softly. "He's the guy who knows where all the skeletons are buried," he jokes. "Even more reason not to want to see him."

"He's the guy who brings you back home to me, safe, each time," Stephen retorts quietly, "We both owe him."

"I know," Antony says, exhaling softly. "But we're never going to be best buddies the way some guys are. The stuff we have in common, that we share? It's way too serious for that." Quickly adding, "But I _am_ glad we're having him over. We need to do more together that's not based in work." Even he recognizes that.

"Exactly, I'm not expecting you to go out drinking with him, or hang out at a game with him. But some balance, something less fraught, something easy to share. That's got to be good for you both. Besides, I like him, he's weird." Stephen grins as he sets a coffee cup down beside his husband.

Antony laughs, spreading a mixture of garlic and butter over each half of a loaf of French bread. "You like him _because_ he's weird?"

"Yeah," Stephen grins, watching his husband be so damned domestic, he wonders briefly what his 'crew' would make of _this_ Antony. "He's odd, interesting, a challenge."

"I'm glad to hear it," Antony says with a smile, setting the bread aside and reviewing his preparations. "It means a lot to me you both like each other. Makes things easier on me," he adds with a cheeky grin.

Stephen sips his coffee, and chuckles. "Like I said, he brings you home safe." He offers a light shrug before glancing at the clock. "You've got time for a quick shower before he's due."

Antony nods. He can't be bothered wearing an apron so he ends up lightly coated in whatever he's making, especially if it involves flour. He checks out what Stephen's wearing more closely so they don't end up matching and smiles. "You look gorgeous." His husband always does. Always looks so fucking beautiful it takes his breath away but it's important to him to say it, to let Stephen know.

"Thank you," Stephen glances down at himself and beams, it means so much to him that his husband and Sir finds him appealing. "You're not so bad yourself, darling man."

"Even covered in flour?" Antony grins.

"Especially then, because how many other people see the you like that?" Stephen queries, reaching out to brush at a particular spot of flour over Antony's chest.

Antony's grin widens and he leans in, kissing Stephen softly on the mouth, the promise of so much more behind it, but first... "Shower and dinner," he reminds himself, drawing back, eyes crinkling at their corners.

"Shower and dinner," Stephen affirms, aware they seem to have just mutually agreed to 'something' after Marcus has left them for the evening.

Antony drags himself away to the bedroom, stripping down, his clothes dumped in the hamper before he climbs into the shower, the water run nice and hot.

///

Marcus, rather unsurprisingly, is punctual to the second. Stephen buzzes him into their private elevator, waits at the front door for their guest, leaning casually against the door jamb as the elevator doors slide open.

"Hey," Stephen smiles his greeting.

"Hey." Marcus nods, smiling back. He hands Stephen the wine and the box of chocolate-dipped salted caramels he brought. "Those are for you, not Antony." He's been here before, a couple of times, once when it was an emergency and another time or two to drop off plans or weapons. Never as a guest. It feels weird.

"Oh! Thank you!" Stephen is surprised and touched at the thought. "Huh, maybe you can tell him they're mine, otherwise he'll growl at me if I try and hoard them for myself." He cocks his head. "Come in, Tony's just getting dressed, he managed to cover himself in flour while he was prepping dinner."

 _Tony._ Fuck. Marcus still can't wrap his head around the nickname. No one in any of their crews has ever tried (well, twice) to call Antony anything other than Antony or boss. Marcus steps into the condo proper, stunned as always by view from the place. "Do you get used to this?" he asks, nodding towards the windows.

"The view?" Stephen glances over his shoulder. "Yeah, sort of. It kind of strikes you anew after you've been away for a while." Stephen pauses to look out, thinking back to times he's been pushed up against those windows and fucked against the glass. "The view from our bedroom is my favourite."

Marcus nods. He wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole. "How's Christos working out?" he asks instead, moving further inside.

"Good, excellent actually. Between 'Arrow', the house hunting, New York and the potential movie I have lined up I've enough to juggle. He's made that a whole lot easier." Stephen waves his hand toward the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink?"

"A scotch would be great," Marcus says, inhaling deeply. "Something smells really good."

"We've both been cooking," Stephen grins, making for the drinks cabinet he pulls out two glasses, and Antony's bottle of Balvenie. "I promised you his gnocchi, but there's also garlic bread and salad." He picks up a glass and offers it to Marcus. "Here. Enjoy."

"Thanks." Marcus smiles and raises his glass in a general toast before taking a sip. "I heard you bought a loft in New York."

"I did," Stephen laughs. "And so did Tony." He sets the second glass to one side for his husband and makes to pour himself a glass of wine instead. "We went looking for somewhere for us to stay in, only what Tony had in mind and what I did were a little... different. He fell in love with an amazing place, I just didn't feel it was somewhere I could live, I wanted smaller, intimate, so we compromised. I bought us the place to stay in, he's got the investment property."

Marcus nods. "I heard he had to battle for that one," he says, waiting until Stephen sits down to do the same. It's not quite what Antony said, but he can read between the lines.

"He did. And unsurprisingly he won." Stephen waves Marcus toward the sofa. "Sit, please," He perches himself on the edge glass caught lightly in one hand. "I'll dig out the details and show you, it's a truly beautiful place. The place I bought is much smaller, just a one bed."

"Antony said it's near the new offices?"

"Yep," Stephen nods. "The place I bought should be ready in a few weeks, so we'll be up there when I go on hiatus I guess. It looks like I'm getting this movie and that shoots in New York too, so it'll be a busy summer."

When Antony gets out of the bathroom, he can hear voices in the living room. He glances at the clock on the bedside table. He almost never runs late but of course the one time he does, Marcus is perfectly on time. He pulls on a pair of black jeans and a blue sweater that Stephen says makes his eyes even bluer. "Hey, sorry I wasn't out to greet you," he says, closing the bedroom door behind him.

"That's alright. Stephen's been looking after me," Marcus says, rising to his feet to give Antony a quick one-armed hug.

Rising to his feet Stephen moves to pick up the scotch he already poured. "Here." He offers it to his husband with a smile, loving the sweater and what it does to his darling man's eyes. "Marcus bought gifts too, wine and some candy, for me." He adds the latter with a grin.

Antony gives Marcus a look, his right hand ducking his head in a decidedly un-Marcus fashion.

"I remembered what you said about salted caramels," Marcus explains, downing a good half of his drink. "And chocolate."

"Tony!" Stephen gives Antony a light punch on the arm. "Behave, it was thoughtful and I'm easily bribed." He grins at Marcus.

Marcus grins back. Another rare Marcus move.

Antony just shakes his head. "I'll have to keep an eye on you two," he teases, quite happy they're getting along.

"Don't you always?" Stephen sips his wine and pushes up to move toward the kitchen. "I should check on things," he explains. "Be nice," he laughs at his husband as he moves past him.

Marcus has to admit he enjoys the way Stephen can say things no one else can to Antony. And get away with it. A glint of metal catches his eye and he realizes for the first time, too busy feeling awkward when he came in, that Stephen's wearing a chain with a lock around his neck. An out and out collar. Which means the other chain he's always wearing is the probably the same thing, only for when he's outside their home. "I can't help noticing..." he says softly, gesturing towards his own throat and nodding after Stephen.

Antony nods. "It's Stephen's collar. For at home."

"And your dog tags?" Marcus asks. "Do most... dominants," the word weird on his tongue, "wear something like that?" He knows they're from Stephen but not what they symbolize. Or if he should even be asking.

Stephen can hear the low murmuring of Antony and Marcus talking, it's low enough that he assumes they've deliberately dropped their voices. _Work_ , he assumes as he checks on everything, happy to find everything is in order and all Tony needs to do is cook off the gnocchi.

Clearing his throat before he steps back into the living space he smiles over at his husband, they've a lovely vibe going on today, perhaps because this morning had involved a lie in and some delicious leisurely lovemaking. He knows under that blue sweater, Antony wears a love bite just above his left nipple.

"No. It's not a thing," Antony explains. "But I was hating the idea of being away from him and he wanted me to have something with me, so these," he fishes the tags out from under his sweater, "have his... membership," he decides is the better explanation, "number - from Citadel - on the back of them."

Marcus leans in to check out the engraving and nods his approval. The fact that Stephen knew to be discreet from the get-go is something he appreciates.

Antony smiles at Stephen. "Marcus was just asking about your collar - and my tags."

"Oh!" Stephen's brows shoot up at that, he looks between Antony and Marcus for a moment. "Oh okay, yeah I guess it's something you'd have questions about." He nods at Marcus. "To be honest, I didn't even think about the fact I was wearing this," he brings his fingers to his throat. "You've seen me wear my day collar, this... is my," he pauses and instead of 'slave' he opts for "...collar for home or at the club."

Marcus nods. "Does Christos know about... your relationship?" He's pretty sure no one else at AJS does but Christos is working as Stephen's PA, coordinating his and Antony's schedules.

Stephen glances at Antony, not sure how much to say, so he opts for the minimum, and if Antony feels that Marcus can hear more he can be more expansive. "Yeah, yeah he does. He has to."

"He knows about this and he knows about our being married," Antony elaborates. "You and he are the only ones who do." Other than Tommy, but he's talking within AJS right now.

Marcus nods again and drains his glass. Thinking. "Louis and Bradley? They're like you guys?"

"Yeah. They're not married but Bradley is Louis's boy," Antony confirms, not entirely sure what's going on in Marcus's head.

Marcus digests that for a moment. "But you're not submissive all the time?" he says to Stephen.

Stephen takes his time thinking about how to answer that, he moves to pick up the scotch bottle and offer Marcus a top up. "Yes and no. I'm submissive only to Antony, and whilst we're partners, I defer to him most of the time, it's a sliding scale. Dependant on where we are, what head space we're in, and if we're wanting to actually be in a scene it can be what you see now to absolute subjugation of myself."

"And what about me?" Marcus asks after another pause, one obviously spent mulling over Stephen's words. "Are there things I should or shouldn't do or say? Since I know about the way you guys are? When I'm with you, I mean." Frowning slightly, unsure if he's making himself clear.

To say the question takes Antony by surprise would be an understatement. Marcus is often the proverbial bull and he's able to get away with it in their line of work. Clients appreciate his blunt nature, his forging ahead to do what needs to be done, often not recognizing there is no other way with Marcus.

Bottle still clutched in his hand, Stephen takes a seat opposite Marcus, his brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. Antony won't invoke that part of us in front of you, not overtly, because what we do is all about consent, and to do so, without your explicit consent would be hugely disrespectful to you as a friend. But because you know our dynamic and you know Tony so well I'm certain you'd pick up on the subtlety of our power exchange, but that's the way we are with each other all the time. Husband, lover, friend, he's still always my boss on some level." He looks to Antony now, for reassurance he said the right thing as much as a need for Antony to perhaps pick up anything he's missed.

Antony smiles at Stephen. What his husband's said is perfect but knowing Marcus needs something solid to hang onto, he offers, "About the only thing you outright wouldn't do is touch either of his collars. If someone who doesn't know does it, it's fine, but if you know, it's disrespectful to both of us."

Marcus nods, filing the rule away. "What about your tags?"

Antony grins. "That's a little different but I don't think you're going to go around grabbing them anyway, are you?"

Marcus snickers. "I think I poked them with a pencil, but I didn't know then, did I?"

"Poked them with a pencil?" Stephen queries, his gaze moving between the two men. He's rather amused and moved that Marcus seems to have put the same importance on Antony's tags as on his collars and he wonders what Antony has told his friend about them.

Marcus laughs. "I gave him grief the first time I saw him wearing them. I knew they weren't his, his old ones I mean, and we were looking at a map and they kept falling out of his shirt and I poked them with my pencil, asking what they were."

"And I told you it was none of your business," Antony points out, taking a sip of Balvenie.

"But you admitted they were from a _he_ ," Marcus returns. "And that it was serious."

Stephen chuckles at that. "Were you surprised it was a 'he'?" he asks Marcus, finally turning to set the bottle of scotch to one side.

"Yes." Marcus doesn't mince words. "I'm one of the few, maybe Christos and me, who even know Antony goes both ways, but I always assumed he'd settle down with a woman. _If_ he ever settled down. You're a good match though. He needs someone strong." And while he doesn't believe women aren't strong, god knows they have enough working for AJS who are, Stephen seems like a natural fit for Antony.

 _Strong._ Stephen blinks at that, it's not something he'd have expected anyone, especially Marcus to use to describe him. "I um..." he clears his throat. "I'm glad you think we're a match," he adds lamely.

Marcus looks to Antony, worried by Stephen's reaction he's said something wrong.

"It's okay," Antony says, reaching for Stephen's hand. "We _are_ a good match and you're right, Stephen's one of the strongest men I know." Even if his husband doesn't see himself that way.

Discomforted by Antony's words, Stephen hides in draining his glass. When he's done he's got a handle on himself a little and he manages a slightly embarrassed smile. "You can stop now, Marcus doesn't need to hear that."

Marcus smiles. "I already know it. You'd have to be to live with this guy," he says, nodding at Antony. Obviously teasing.

Antony laughs. "Asshole," he jokes back, giving Stephen's hand a quick squeeze. "Anyone hungry? I should put the garlic bread on soon. Start the water boiling."

"I'm always hungry, you know this," Stephen grins, thankful for the change in subject. "Go and get dinner going."

Antony leaves Stephen and Marcus to talk some more while he preheats the oven and puts some water on to boil for the pasta.

"You were going to show me the places you bought?" Marcus says, not really sure what else to talk about. He's never been good at small talk and his own interests are pretty limited.

"Oh yes!" Stephen pops up out of his seat and goes hunting for the folder he'd stashed paperwork in. "Here you go," he pulls out a brochure. "This is Tony's place, the investment property. And this," he offers a second sheaf of details, "is where we'll actually stay when we're there. Tony needs to get some security installed in this one before he's comfortable, and we're getting it repainted at the moment. But it didn't need much else doing to it. I guess you'll see it for real soon enough."

The inference that there'll be more invitations into their shared homes is one that takes Marcus aback but it also pleases him to no end. He wonders a little that it took so long - for Stephen to come into Antony's life - before this happened but he hasn't exactly gone out of his way to invite Antony in either over the years. They work well together, better than anyone else, but they've always gone their separate ways when home. "Wow," he murmurs, blowing out a breath at the pictures of both lofts. "They share a lot of common features - the windows and light, the exposed brick... I don't blame you though. This one," Antony's investment property, "is too big for one person. Or even two really, unless you're spending a lot of time there."

"That's what I said," Stephen nods. "It's absolutely stunning, and if we were living there full time it'd be an amazing space to call home, but I couldn't see either of us staying there on our own, still, he fell in love with it, and you know how much Antony loves to collect beautiful things."

Like Stephen himself? Marcus wisely doesn't voice the thought. He may not be gay but he can hardly miss that Antony has spectacular taste when it comes to his choice of partners. He nods instead. "Some of the things we've brought back over the years..." He shakes his head at the memories.

"What about you? What's your home like? Do you have a house, apartment, a loft?" Stephen settles back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him.

"I have a house in Studio City," Marcus says. "It's on three levels, nestled into the hillside with views over the canyon and valley. I don't really have any yard but I don't garden. I much prefer having my decks."

"I thought I'd miss having a yard when I moved in here," Stephen admits, "but we travel so much, and if either of us get antsy for outdoor space then Antony likes to go down to the beach for a walk and dinner." He ponders that for a moment. "Maybe we'll buy an actual house one day, for when our lives slow down a little."

"You mean the beach house or something here?" Marcus asks, surprised to find he's genuinely interested.

"Something here," Stephen shrugs. "I don't know, I had a house before I moved in here, but I know Tony loves this place, and whilst he can do the whole outdoors thing, he seems to prefer really urban spaces to live in. Maybe because it's the opposite of what you guys have to deal with when you're away."

Marcus nods. "It's also easier to pick up and travel from a place like this. All you have to do is shut the door behind you. And then there's security, but you should see my place." He grins. "State of the art, of course."

"I expect nothing less," Stephen grins. "I think that's the treatment the new loft is getting right now, I didn't dare ask, I just let him get on with it. I have no idea what he thinks is going to happen but I'm not sure I really need thumb print scanners and such put in."

"You're a celebrity. You never know when some stranger is going to decide they want to be _too_ up close and personal," Marcus says with a light shrug. "We're used to taking all the precautions we can and when it comes to you, Antony's even more careful."

"I'm not that famous," Stephen shrugs it off, putting it down to his husband's seeming paranoia about his safety. "He's just being overly cautious, which I put down to our dynamic."

"Could be," Marcus allows. He's not about to argue or point out that Antony has valid concerns with their work, the people they deal and have dealt with. "But it'll make him feel better about you being there," he says, figuring that's okay.

"So... may I ask you a personal question?" Stephen sits up, leaning in.

Marcus shares very little of himself with anyone besides Antony and even there, well, they both tend towards guarding their privacy fiercely. But he likes Stephen, and he trusts him - he actually does - and so he nods. "Go ahead."

"Do you have someone? I mean I get your lifestyle, your's and Antony's lifestyle, isn't entirely conducive to a traditional set up, but... he's never said if you had someone." Stephen wonders if he's overstepped, in fact he's pretty sure that Antony would not be comfortable with him asking, but he'd like to think Marcus is a friend now.

"I don't," Marcus says with a small smile. "I've never had a serious partner." That much is true but the whys of it are better left unexplored. "But like you said, our lifestyle, our work, mostly isn't conducive to it." Which hasn't stopped most of their crew from settling down but they either lie through their teeth, argue almost non-stop, or spend the better part of their lives hiding what they really do and he can't be bothered. That's the palatable explanation.

Stephen absorbs that for a moment, then he decides Marcus deserves honesty rather than some crass response. "Part of me wants to say 'I'm sure you'll meet someone', which I guess is patronising, and an assumption that everyone wants what Tony and I have, which is rude. My time in the lifestyle has, at least, let me see there are other paths than traditional or even serial monogamy."

Marcus nods, smiling as Antony comes back from the kitchen. "How's it going in there?" he asks, grateful for the interruption even though he appreciates Stephen's acceptance and interpretation of his relationship status.

"Perfect," Antony says, setting the salad and grated mizithra on the dining room table. "Five more minutes and there'll be food. Do you want wine with dinner?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Marcus says, draining his glass again. "Just make sure I slow down before dessert." He's a big guy and he can handle a lot of alcohol but driving home still wouldn't be the best idea if he keeps drinking the way he is.

"I opened a bottle," Stephen pushes up, "I'll put that out and grab another." He takes his empty glass with him.

"You're lucky," Marcus says when Stephen's out of earshot. "A few of the guys, I've met their wives and I wonder why they ever come home at all. You've got a good one."

Antony laughs. "Thanks, but there's some nice partners in our crew. What about Terry's wife?"

Marcus makes a face. "She always looks at me like I'm something he brought in on his shoe."

"You freak her out," Antony says, taking a seat and a drink of his scotch. "She's 5 feet and _maybe_ 90 pounds. You look like a fucking giant to her." He knows that's not all of it but it's part and it does as an explanation.

Stephen pours himself another glass and then carries the bottle and the 'spare' through to set them on the dinner table. It's the first time they've had a dinner guest over, and he takes a moment to ponder that, that perhaps he and Antony are finally opening up their 'bubble' a little more. "It'll be Ian and Joe next," he murmurs to himself.

"Have a seat at the table," Antony says finally, rising to his feet again. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on things." A hand brushed over Stephen's hip as they pass on his way to the kitchen.

Marcus stands but he defers to Stephen, waiting to find out where he should sit.

When Stephen had set the table, he'd done so without thought. So he'd put Antony at the head of the table, with Marcus and himself at either side. Amused at himself he pulls out a seat. "I put you here," he smiles at Marcus, wondering if he too would be amused that their mutual 'boss' is in his natural spot.

Marcus takes a seat, noting quietly that he's been seated at Antony's right side. "You said you'd both been cooking?" he says instead, choosing not to remark on it. "Did you make dessert?"

"I did," Stephen nods, reaching to pour Marcus a glass of wine. "I made a Tiramisu and some almond biscotti to go with our coffee."

"Thanks." Marcus smiles. "Both sound delicious. Do you like cooking and baking?"

Stephen huffs out a laugh. "Well, kind of. I love food, I love carb based sweet food, so yeah. But when Tony is home, I tend to be banned from the kitchen. But when it's just me, I cook and I enjoy trying new dishes. What about you?"

Marcus snorts and shakes his head. "I love food but I can't stand cooking. I can throw a piece of meat on the grill and put together a salad but otherwise, I mostly order in or do take out." He sits back again, taking a sip of the wine, which is delicious. "I used to have a housekeeper/cook but she got nosy..."

Stephen's brows shoot up. "Oh. That wasn't smart." He nods, all wide eyed at the idea someone would be that stupid.

"No, it wasn't," Marcus agrees. It wasn't smart at all as she quickly found out. "What do you guys do?" he asks, realizing he's never really discussed Antony's domestic arrangements with him.

"We have someone come in, once or twice a week, she's been with Tony for years. It works, she prefers to come in when we're out, likes to get on without us 'cluttering up the space'," Stephen grins at that.

"And he trusts her with his stuff?"

"She's come via the Club, she's been vetted, she's signed all kinds of non disclosure shit. It's as close as safe as we're ever going to get." Sipping his wine, Stephen shrugs it off.

Marcus nods. "I wonder if they'd let me hire her or someone like her? Even though I'm not a member." Surely Antony could pull some strings with Louis.

"Ask him, he might be willing to share her at least." And Stephen's grin is entirely impish at that.

"Share who?" Antony asks, bringing three plates of gnocchi to the table.

"Your cleaning lady," Marcus says. "Even though she's from Louis's club."

"Like you need a cleaning lady," Antony says. "This guy's place?" he tells Stephen, nudging his shoulder with his hand as he puts the plates down. "You could literally eat off the fucking floor."

"It doesn't always look like that," Marcus protests, "and I need someone to cook for me too. Someone I can trust in my place."

"Well, Luisa won't do that," Antony says, "but I can ask Louis." The last thing he wants is a repeat of the last time Marcus hired someone on his own.

"See, Mr Fix It will fix it." Stephen eyes his food with obvious appreciation, but his manners don't entirely desert him, so he offers Marcus the salad bowl, then the cheese. "Ugh, this looks so good."

"Garlic bread," Antony says, taking a look at the table and what's missing. But Stephen gets a grin anyway. "Thanks."

"It does," Marcus says, watching Antony duck back into the kitchen. He's unused to seeing this side of the man. "How much of the cheese should I put on?"

"Lots," Antony calls back, wrapping the bread in a tea towel placed in a basket. "It's the star of the dish."

"Lots." Nodding Stephen urges Marcus to sprinkle more on his food. "There's plenty." He's caught Marcus watching Antony and he's wondering just what Marcus is making of it all. "Is it odd seeing him being all domestic?" he asks quietly.

Marcus nods. "He's always in control, that part, the take charge part is familiar, but it's about _food_..."

Chuckling, Stephen sets the cheese down and offers Marcus the garlic bread. "Actually, he's not _always_ in control, just 99% of the time."

"When's the other percent?" Marcus asks, taking a slice.

"Oh I couldn't possibly share that secret," Stephen winks over the table. "And I know I'm exceptionally lucky to be allowed to see him like that."

Fuck. "I had to ask, didn't I?" Marcus says, shaking his head, his cheeks heating even as he busies himself with his food.

Antony laughs. "You walked right into that one, mate," he points out, punching Marcus lightly on the shoulder.

"Sit," Stephen waves his husband into his seat and then attends to pouring Antony a glass of wine and handing him each of the dishes in turn, his own food ignored until Antony's taken care of.

Marcus tries not to pay too much attention to Stephen _serving_ Antony but that's what it is and although he could guess pretty easily about the sex parts, this part is actually weirder to him. It reminds him of the time they spent recuperating in a brothel in Cambodia after a cross-border skirmish. Except Stephen's a guy and definitely _not_ a prostitute. Which means he has all sorts of questions again but it doesn't seem right putting Antony or Stephen on the spot when he's a guest in their home.

When Stephen's content that Antony has all he needs he turns his attention back to his own food, utterly oblivious to his behaviour. He sets about his dinner with enthusiasm, relishing each mouthful.

"You okay?" Antony asks Marcus. He knows that look, knows his right hand man better than anyone else and the fact Marcus has put on his calm show-nothing exterior here, while they're eating dinner, means something's up.

"Fine," Marcus responds, nodding, gesturing towards his plate. "This is really good."

"Thanks," Antony says, with a pretty good idea of what's going on. "If you have questions about us, you can ask them. We'll draw the line if it's _too_ personal but you _can_ ask."

Marcus shrugs. "It's nothing. I was just - the way Stephen served you your food and wine..."

Stephen's watching this exchange, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two men, but at Marcus's words his brows shoot up, then draw down as he reruns his actions. "Huh." He tips his head to one side for a moment. "I didn't realise I had, at least not like _that_." Meaning in a service orientated kind of way. "I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, I guess it's simply automatic here at home."

"It didn't make me uncomfortable," Marcus says. Not really. "It was more that I wondered if you were doing it because _you_ were comfortable. That you were okay with doing it in front of me." Although if Stephen didn't even realize he was doing it, or wasn't doing it in _that_ way... Fuck. Marcus doesn't know.

Setting his silverware down, Stephen picks up his wine and takes a moment to consider Marcus's words. "I think it may be a couple of things. Besides me, no one is as intimate with Tony as you, I have always assumed some level of inclusivity with you that I wouldn't even consider with anyone else. We are also in our home, where that is natural behaviour. I don't know, but trust me, if I was in full service mode... it'd look a little different. I hope?" He turns his gaze on his husband.

Antony nods. "It would and we definitely wouldn't do that without asking you and making sure you were okay with it," he explains. "It's actually a huge breach of etiquette in our lifestyle to expose those who aren't without their permission." It's maybe not the best explanation but it's one Marcus will understand.

"Hence my apology," Stephen adds, "I am, however, as happy as Tony to answer your questions, I do remember a little about how much of a head fuck it can all be."

"Okay." Marcus nods. They've both said it now so he's going to take them at their word. "I get what he gets out of it," gesturing at Antony. "But what does it do for you? And I'm not talking the sex part but the other bit, the, what did you call it? Full service mode?"

"Okay," Stephen nods, leaning back in his chair, glass in hand. "Bear in mind this is how it works for me, everyone in the lifestyle does things a little differently, their motivations, their needs are unique. But when I'm in service mode, or on my knees for Tony I'm offering all I am to him. If I'm in service my objective is to tend to his needs, to anticipate some of them, to make sure I take care of him, it's how I show him my absolute respect, as my Dominant. I get pleasure from that - he becomes my focus, so anything else becomes secondary, I can switch off, be centred in him." He grins then. "And the sex side? The same mindset stands, but it's more complex there."

"So it's almost a form of meditation but with Antony as your focus, instead of an internal one?" Marcus suggests, reaching for another piece of garlic bread.

"That's one layer of it, yeah," Stephen nods. "But the power exchange is so much more, I give myself to him, he takes care of me, it's entirely reciprocal."

Antony nods, sipping at his wine and enjoying his gnocchi as he listens to Stephen and Marcus talk, watching carefully for any sign Stephen's getting uncomfortable with Marcus's questions.

"But don't all relationships involve that in some way?" Marcus asks, aware he's definitely missing something and maybe that's just it. Maybe it's something you have to be _into_ to get.

"Yes, but when you engage in a D/s dynamic it can be taken to an extreme. Some D/s couples only use power play in the bedroom, others, like us, have it as a thread that runs through their day to day lives, dialling it up or down according to mood, need and circumstance. There are times when I hand Antony all of my power, and I become nothing more than what he wants me to be." He hopes he's not over shared, glancing at Antony for reassurance.

Antony reaches for Stephen's hand and gives it a squeeze. "A lot of it's about trust," he tells Marcus. "Knowing you can give yourself up, hand your power over to someone else, and _know_ they'll take care of you and you're both getting something out of it. There's a lot of crap out there these days, online and in books, that gives a really fucked up picture of what D/s is but in a 'good' relationship it's something both people want and which serves both their needs and where, whatever it looks like on the outside, the people in it know they're in it _together_."

Stephen nods. "More than once I've quite literally put my life in his hands, there's a kick in that. Giving of yourself so completely."

Marcus grins at that, he can't help himself. "There's a whole bunch of us who can say that. Luckily he's good for it."

Laughing Stephen sets his glass down, "Well, yes, there is that. But I meant in a very literal, hands on way.

Marcus glances at Antony. Certain he doesn't want to know the actual details and wondering if Stephen has any real idea of the things his husband's done. Either way it doesn't matter. His lips are sealed and he knows Antony will do everything in his power to keep Stephen safe. "Antony's the only person I could see doing that with," he says, sitting back with his wine. Not in the same way, not for the same reasons, but he would, without hesitation.

Stephen, wisely, decides to keep his mouth shut about that. Though, rather surprisingly, he has the urge to go and get the photographs Antony took of him after their scene, to show Marcus, to say, 'Look, look what I took for him... this is who he is to me.'

"I'm just glad you both trust me," Antony says quietly but firmly, giving Stephen's hand another squeeze and smiling at Marcus. "And that I can count on you both."

"You earned it," Stephen smiles at his husband. He knows the same stands for Marcus, but it's not his place to speak for the man. "So... does that answer your question?" He turns his attention back on their guest.

Marcus nods. "I still don't really get it," he admits, draining his wine glass. "Deep down, in a personal way. But I think I understand what you mean, why you do it, and either way, you have my respect."

"Thank you," Stephen inclines his head, then reaches to pick up the wine bottle. "Top up?" he offers.

///

Antony waves as the elevator closes and locks the penthouse door behind them. He kisses Stephen and grins at his husband. "There you go," he says. "First dinner party as a married couple." Party might be stretching it but still.

"It was Marcus, not exactly a dinner party," Stephen laughs, bumping shoulders with Antony. "We didn't weird him out, did we?"

Antony shakes his head, wrapping his arm around Stephen's waist. "Maybe a little but he'll survive," he says. "I think he appreciated we felt comfortable enough to talk to him."

"He's entitled to our honesty," Stephen moves them back into the apartment. "Fancy finishing up the wine?" He cocks a suggestive brow at Antony. He's a little drunk, but not so much he can't hide it, wonders if he might persuade his husband to a little more alcohol before enticing him to bed.

"Sure," Antony nods. "Let me put the pots to soak and run the dishwasher."

Stephen pouts, giving Antony an unconsciously provocative look from under his lashes. "Leave the dishes, I'll do them in the morning..."

Antony grins. "I suppose I could," he says, teasing, "You're a bad influence."

"Me?" Stephen pretends his outrage. "I'm practically angelic. An exceptionally well behaved boy..." He takes Antony's hand and leads him back to the couch and the unfinished wine.

Antony chuckles, letting Stephen get him seated, his wine glass topped up. "You were okay with all of Marcus's questions? He didn't make you uncomfortable?"

Stephen drops down to sit at Antony's feet, curls his legs under him. "No, not at all. I like he felt able to ask."

"He likes you," Antony says with a smile, laying a hand on the back of Stephen's neck, fingers playing over his collar.

"I know, I like him too, and I'm glad we get on, for your sake," Stephen leans his head against Antony's knee, eyes closed to enjoy that casual and familiar caress.

"Can you imagine if you didn't?" Antony shakes his head. Although for a bit, it looked like they might not. Or at least from Marcus's end. But he'd shown a distinctly un-Marcus-like willingness to accept Stephen's presence in Antony's life, likely recognizing the seriousness of their commitment even before he knew about their intricacies of their relationship.

"I would have done whatever I could to at least come to some understanding, you know that right?" Stephen opens his eyes and looks up at Antony.

Antony nods. "I know you would have," he says, taking another drink of his wine. "Just to make things easier for me." His fingers stroking more firmly over the chain's links, along the soft skin of Stephen's throat above his collar.

Stephen nods, because it's the truth. He'd do anything for Antony. It's not just his love of the man that drives that need, but his submission, his drive to make Antony's life as pleasurable as possible.

"You should finish your wine," Antony murmurs, resisting the urge to outright molest his boy.

"I should?" Even as he questions it, Stephen is picking up his glass. "Do you want me drunk Sir? Hmm?" He casts Antony a look. "My consent would be compromised..." And as he says it, Stephen realises it's been a long while since they indulged in a little con-non-con, sometimes he likes to feel Antony subdue him with more than a look, or a word.

"You mean I'd be taking advantage of you?" Antony says, reaching for the bottle of wine and emptying the last of it into both their glasses, Stephen's getting the majority.

Amusement makes Stephen's eye dance, and he winks over the rim of his glass as he takes a healthy drink. "Absolutely. Might even be more than taking advantage..."

"Might be against your will?" Antony muses, his cock starting to harden just at the thought. Fuck.

"Uh huh." Stephen's gaze never leaves Antony's face. He watches his husband mull that over, watches as thoughts flicker across his face. He can read Antony better than anyone, and he knows he's pressing buttons.

"You should come sit with me then. Like any guest would," Antony says, patting the couch beside him.

"Okay." Stephen rolls to his feet, takes the seat beside Antony, just enough distance to be deemed proprietary. He can already feel his pulse picking up, anticipation making him hyper-alert to his husband's movements.

"I'm glad you could make it tonight," Antony says, deciding they might as well go full on roleplay.

"Yeah, so am I, the food was fantastic," Stephen takes his lead and makes himself appear relaxed, content after a lovely meal. "Thank you for asking me."

Antony smiles. "I couldn't resist. Especially when you mentioned what a sucker you are for homemade Italian and wine," he adds, giving a small toast with his glass and taking another drink.

"And Italian desserts," Stephen laughs softly, joining Antony in taking a drink. "I'm easily bought with carb based food, what can I say?"

 _Easily bought._ Antony likes the sound of that. "I can open another bottle of wine?" he offers, watching Stephen closely.

"Actually? Do you have anything stronger? Scotch maybe?" Stephen asks oh-so-innocently.

"Ah. A man after my own heart," Antony says with a grin, eyes crinkling at their corners. "Balvenie or Macallan?"

"Oh! Balvenie," Stephen nods, apparently delighted to be offered his favourite. "Thank you, that's wonderful."

"I'll be right back." Antony conveniently taking his glass with him as he heads for the kitchen, a fresh bottle of scotch pulled from the cabinet along with two glasses, his wine left behind. "This is a twelve year doublewood," he says, coming back, taking his time in opening the bottle.

"Trying to impress me?" Stephen arches a brow, his tone playful and yes, flirtatious. He watches Antony open the bottle, pausing to inhale the scent of the liquor before pouring it carefully into the two glasses.

"Damn right I am," Antony grins, eyes crinkling. He hands over a glass and takes a seat beside Stephen again. "Is it working?"

That smile does interesting things to Stephen, his belly flutters and a warmth spreads out from his groin. He dips his head, laughing softly. "That, would be telling. I'm not going to make it that easy for you."

"No?" Antony decides to push a little harder, smile still in place, tone still casual, just checking. "I heard you weren't seeing anyone anymore."

Stephen's gaze cuts up at that, a little frown marring his forehead. Antony's words imply he's been asking around, that the invitation to dinner maybe wasn't as casual or unmotivated as he'd thought. He sips the scotch and then nods, lips pressed together for a moment. "That's true," he concedes softly.

"So I've been good. I waited," Antony points out. All the time they've worked together and never once has he stepped out of line.

Stephen squirms a little in his seat, the assumptions Antony seems to be making are... uncomfortable. "You waited?"

Anthony nods, reaching over to place his hand on Stephen's thigh. "You kept smiling at me but I knew you were with him, so I waited. I knew my time would come."

Stephen glances down at the hand on his leg, he can feel the heat of Antony's hand even though the denim of his jeans. "I... I had no idea you were interested in me... like that..." he adds a little awkwardly.

"Of course you did," Antony insists, noting Stephen hasn't removed his hand. "I know you have to say you didn't because you were with him and flirting with me, but I know you wouldn't have done anything. You're not that kind of guy. I know that," he assures him.

Stephen is starting to feel totally creeped out, and despite the fantastic food and the amazing scotch he's wishing he was elsewhere right now.

"What is it you want?" Stephen licks nervously over his lips, the grip on his glass tightening.

"What do you think?" Antony smiles, sliding his hand a little higher. "I want us to be together."

"Together?" Now Stephen pulls away, shifting a little further along the couch.

Antony frowns. He moves closer again, hand going to Stephen's waist, pulling him towards him. "You don't have to pretend now. It's okay. I won't tell anyone at work if you don't want them to know." He leans in, pressing his mouth to Stephen's.

"Hey Stop! Stop now!" Stephen brings his hands up to push Antony away, but of course he's met with a physical strength to more than match his own. He turns his head to Antony's mouth slides against his chin, his face contorted in a mask of horror. "Back the fuck up!"

"You flirted with me," Antony says, sitting back but only a little. "You smiled and joked and gave me all those looks." He tries to kiss Stephen again.

"Dude, that was not a fucking come on," Stephen drags his hand across his mouth and pushes up. "I wasn't flirting with you."

"You're lying," Antony says, a flash of anger crossing his features. "You're lying, or you were leading me on." He pushes Stephen back against the couch.

This is going downhill fast. And Stephen is getting pissed. "The fuck I was, now back up and let me leave... I'm done here, you're fucking delusional."

Antony's destroyed, everything he believed falling apart before him, the man he loves revealed to be nothing but a tease. Someone who's preyed on his affection. But he'll get his own back. He shoves Stephen back against the couch again, grabbing his face and forcing him into a kiss.

The façade is starting to slip, for a moment Stephen gives himself up to that rough kiss, before he remembers he's supposed to be fighting this. He bites at Antony's lower lip, hard, and uses the moment of surprise to push back, trying to get a knee in for leverage.

The bite draws blood and Antony curses, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he throws himself against Stephen, using his body weight to try and turn him. "You fucking bitch," he growls. "I'm going to make you so fucking sorry."

Panic makes Stephen slow, and clumsy, his counter attack comes too late and he finds himself spun around, his face mashed into the back of the couch. Breath comes hot and damp against the leather, his heart hammers hard in his chest as he tries to pull free an arm that's trapped under his chest. "Fuck! Stop! Fucking stop you fucking sick freak!" he shouts out, but he knows, no one is going to hear him, not up here, not in the penthouse of some insane guy.

"You led me on," Antony accuses, leaning in harder, one hand sneaking under Stephen to get his jeans open. "And now you're gonna find out what happens to bitches like you."

It dawns on Stephen just what Antony means as the other man starts to fumble with his fly. It spurs him on, makes him fight back harder, not wasting breath on shouting out, or cussing he concentrates instead on getting some leverage, some hold to push back and resist.

For a few minutes it's an all-out brawl. Stephen's strong, _really_ strong, and he's well-trained for the show, but none of that holds up to Antony's arsenal of tactics. He lets Stephen get one arm free only to wrench it high on his back, the shoulder pulled tight, his own cheek stinging like hell from being elbowed by the other arm which is now back under Stephen. "You fight me and I'll hurt you," he warns. "Badly."

"Fuck you!" Stephen hisses, still struggling, still not willing to give up. Not when he knows where this is going...

Antony laughs. "I'm not the one getting fucked," he grits out, dragging Stephen's jeans and shorts down over his ass even as he has to brace every ounce of his body weight against the other man, struggling to keep him in place, the hold he has on his arm one that _can't_ be followed through, not without dislocating Stephen's shoulder.

When the skin of his ass is exposed to the air, Stephen tries one last time to fight back, but the weight of Antony at his back is stealing the breath from his lungs, that, combined with the excruciating pain in his shoulder means he's fighting a losing battle, one he never really stood much chance of winning from the outset.

He suddenly goes limp, needing to breath, to try and reassess where this is going, to see if he can talk his way out.

"Please..." he whimpers softly. "Please don't do this..."

"You're too late," Antony sneers, keeping Stephen's arm held high while he gets his own jeans open, his cock out. "You led me on. You made me think you liked me..."

"I did... I do," Stephen whimpers, he sounds pathetic to his own ears. "I do like you... I really do. You just need to let me show you... please..."

"You had your chance," Antony says, Stephen's hand held tight against his upper back as he shifts down and to the side, spitting a good glob of saliva into Stephen's crack.

It's rough, it's nasty and fuck it's hot. Stephen's actually hard, his cock leaking where it's pressed against his belly, trapped between his body and the couch. But he keeps playing along, loving the degradation, the humiliation it invokes to be manhandled, over powered and treated like this.

The saliva trickles along the cleft of his ass, he can feel it tickling the skin. Stephen allows himself one small noise that might be construed as pleasure before he starts to ramble. "Please don't do this, please... please don't hurt me... I'm begging you, please..."

"Shut the fuck up," Antony growls. "You're not fooling me. You're all alike. Leading guys like me on," he spits in his palm and greases his cock, "and expecting to get away with it." Spits again into Stephen's crack, watching the saliva run into his hole and lines up, pushing the head of his cock straight in.

It's extremely rare for Antony to go in without proper lube, his size means to go without runs a very high risk of Stephen tearing, something that has happened before... but this, this is insanely hot, and Stephen trusts his Sir to know where the lines are, so all he has to do is give himself up to the way Antony wants this played out.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck no! No! NO! You're hurting me, fuck... too big, you're too fucking big... STOP!" Stephen starts to struggle again, the pain in his shoulder warring with the exquisite pain in his ass, and finally his masochistic tendencies start to win out, his struggle weakens, his sounds slide into something less than abject horror and pain.

"There you go, bitch," Antony murmurs, pushing slowly deeper, Stephen's body slowly stretching around him. "I knew you'd like it."

The 'fuck you' is slurred out this time, Stephen's eyes are closed, his breathing harsh and noisy. All he can think about, all that consumes him, is the pressure and pain of being filled by such a huge dick.

Every last fraction of an inch forced into Stephen's hole and Antony rocks his hips, savouring the tight heat, his power and control over the man beneath him. "Tell me you like it," he orders, nipping at the back of Stephen's neck.

"Never," Stephen grinds out, his teeth clenched, his body vibrating with tension, "Not... not from you... never..."

"Ever a lying bitch," Antony accuses, reaching under Stephen to grab his still-hard, still-dripping cock. "You fucking love it. This is what you wanted, isn't it? You _wanted_ me to take you."

"T...take me?" Stephen turns his head, his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain. "You're not 'taking' me, you're raping me..." Even so, he's arching his ass up into the cradle of Antony's hips, his body reacting instinctively - despite the role play.

Antony shakes his head. "It didn't have to be this way," he points out, thrusting harder now that the clench of Stephen's body has eased up some. "This is your fault. You asked for it." The words making him cringe inside.

Stephen lets the humiliation wash over him, he doesn't speak any further, he simply puts up a token resistance, struggling enough to keep up the pretence.

Antony keeps Stephen pinned, fucking him with short rough thrusts, his hand wrapped tight around Stephen's cock, working him to match, his orgasm right fucking there, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of his spine.

Stephen's not sure when his mind slides out of the role and into being his Sir's fuck toy, but his body gives him away, as does his noises. He makes quiet whimpery begging noises, wanting more, wanting the verbal humiliation that Antony often gifts him when they fuck like this.

"There you go. I knew you wanted it. That your cunt would just open right up," Antony breathes, fucking Stephen steadily, his climax held at bay. "Fucking bitch just begging to be bred, used, have your cunt wrecked..."

"Yes Sir," Stephen mumbles against leather damp from his own saliva. "Pig... Sir's pig..." he offers, his breath being punched out of him with each thrust.

"Sir's nasty filthy fuck pig," Antony growls, his cock giving a rough throb at the way Stephen's dropped, the roleplay mostly forgotten. "And you're gonna come for me, aren't you? You're gonna come for me and beg me to fill your cunt with my seed."

Permission, not something Stephen was expecting, or was even ready to ask for. His body reacts as his mind catches up. "Sir! Please... please use your pig, please fuck him and fill him, please ruin his cunt, please... boy, _slave_ is your cum dump... please..."

Antony's hips move faster, skin snapping against skin as he chases after his own pleasure, those words spurring his arousal. He comes with a shout, hot thick spurts flooding Stephen's hole, twisting his wrist just so, the final order.

That wrist flick makes Antony's fingers catch the ring in the end of Stephen's cock, that last flash of pain tips Stephen over the edge, his body convulsing around his Sir's cock, shuddering out his own release beneath him. The noise he makes is pained, raw and loud.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, kneeling back, cock still throbbing inside that tight heat as he runs his hands over Stephen's hips and ass.

Stephen slumps, lost in his subspace, put there by pain and the total head fuck that was their scene. His clothing in total disarray, his breathing erratic, he waits for further direction, unable to think for himself.

Antony eases out, sitting back and pulling Stephen into his arms. "It's time to come back, Stephen," he says, waiting to see if the use of his boy's name does the trick. "You've been a good boy and I'm so proud of you but now I want you to come back for me."

Stephen turns his face into Antony's chest, not ready, not able to pull himself up out of the fog just yet. His body is still twitching from aftershocks, his shoulder still aches from how Antony had him pinned.

Antony hugs Stephen and kisses him, murmuring words of affection and praise. He keeps using Stephen's name, keeps telling him it's time to come back but it's all in that same low soothing tone. Waiting for his boy to be ready.

Eventually Stephen's coherent enough to speak, a smile curves his mouth as he mumbles against warm, sex scented skin. "You're a bastard, you know that?"

Antony chuckles. "The roleplay was your idea," he points out, eyes crinkling.

"But you're the boss," Stephen tips his head back to look up at the much loved face. "My ass _and_ my shoulder hurt." He pouts a little. "I think I prefer it when we go hand to hand rather than you just playing dirty like that." He reaches up to press fingers to the light red bruise on Antony's cheek bone.

"You clocked me good," Antony grins then sobers a little, "Sorry about the shoulder. I was trying to be careful."

"Hey, it was part of the scene, I'm all good," Stephen wriggles a little as semen starts to seep from his ass. "Though a hot shower and bed would be kinda cool right about now..."

"You want company?" Antony asks, giving Stephen a kiss. "Or should I take my turn?"

"Nope I'll need you there to do my back," Stephen pushes up, holding onto his jeans as he shuffles to stand up. He looks down at the mess on the leather. "Ugh. I should clean that before we shower though." He pulls a face, and hopes desperately that Antony will let him do so with the leather cleaning wipes they have, rather than his tongue.

Antony chuckles at Stephen's expression. He knows he put it in their contract that Stephen should clean up their messes with his mouth but normally when that happens, it happens right away. "You're off the hook," he tells him. "You can use those wipe things."

"Oh thank fuck." He shuffles his jeans up over his hips and lands a smacker of a kiss on Antony's cheek before heading to the kitchen to fetch said wipes. "Why don't you go and get the shower running, I'll be right with you," he calls out.

"Will do," Antony says, rising to his feet, his jeans still open, half-hard cock bobbing in front of him as he makes his way to their bedroom, shucks his clothes in the hamper and turns the shower on, nice and hot, the way they both like it, two huge fluffy towels set out for after. He's feeling pretty damn pleased with himself right now. Dinner with Marcus, role play with Stephen, hot shower and a nice cuddle coming up. He laughs at the last. Never would have thought once upon a time that would be a highlight of a night but even the simplest things make him happy when he's with Stephen.


End file.
